tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28513717777966891922024-03-14T03:45:56.680+00:00Confessions of a ParamourHot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-81285877649756987952010-03-27T21:53:00.004+00:002010-03-27T22:43:49.901+00:00Walk the lineWhilst I'm waiting, I wonder if I should write about where I am, and why I am waiting. So far I'm unresolved, but as I wonder let me type away and see how far I get.<br /><br />As I left things with you, I was certain that <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Conversation">The Conversation</a> was long overdue. I was right, without really knowing I'd slowly pushed a series of buttons that resulted in the most explosive of evenings. We drank, we chatted, we critiqued the woman in the cheap red shoes who subconsciously reached down to stroke her leg each time she felt the conflict of flirting with her male companion too much to bear. <br /><br />Her male companion, we surmised, was married and a colleague, or possibly her boss, we both sensed a conflict of emotion - in hindsight I wonder if we projected our own feelings, as ever in tandem, onto her. At some point I made a comment which saw <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Mr%20Magic">Mr Magic</a> disappear in a puff of smoke that stung my eyes so much I cried all of the way home and when he eventually reappeared we talked in earnest. We talked and we talked and we talked for hours, roughly covering all topics you'd expect of <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Conversation">The Conversation</a>.<br /><br />He said this, I said that and quite soon we were back to the lovely place we curiously left in December as it became horribly clear that we both wanted the same thing, but were also both idiots, saboteurs and gloriously in-lust with each other. We still need to talk more, but for now that has to wait as he's flown half way around the world to spend a fortnight's <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/holiday">holiday</a> with his other women. Yes ... quite.<br /><br />This is <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Her">Her</a>, the woman with whom I share taste in men, a mutual loathing and absolutely nothing else. She is still away on a long term overseas assignment, so this will be the first time they've seen each other in six months - I wonder if anything will be different between them. I wonder if she'll notice that he has new underwear?<br /><br />So yet again we have <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Him">Him</a>, we have <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Her">Her</a> and we have me who, for now, will wait, and try not to wonder too much.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-47551511586709107772010-03-05T20:07:00.005+00:002010-03-05T20:51:00.576+00:00Mr Quilted JacketThere's a man I see almost every morning who is striking. Tall, Dark and Handsome & he wears a quilted jacket. That would be the sum total of what I know of him.<br /><br />Technically I know more, but I'd argue it's circumstantial. We board the same train every day, he stands at the same point on the platform every day, and when my eyes flicker over him as I stroll past him each morning I've learnt he looks grumpy and stern every single day. I've observed his lovely long <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/legs">legs</a> and no wedding ring.<br /><br />He's the type of man who I wonder if he'll prolong his gaze long enough to let me smile at him, and I wonder if he'd smile back. Not for any particular reason, but I think he has a lovely face so he <em>must</em> have a lovely smile too?!<br /><br />This evening he was an unusual (for the return journey) but a welcome distraction. <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Conversation">The Conversation</a> with <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Mr%20Magic">Mr Magic</a> is getting closer which means I'm revisiting the <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/vicious%20circle">vicious circle</a> of "I can do it", "I can't do it", "I can do it", I don't want to do it", "I can do it", "I'll just leave it a little while longer ...". Distractions are thus required.<br /><br />So, so far we have Mr Quilted Jacket at an ungodly hour on the station platform, the prospect of sighting <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Mr%20Daniel%20Craig">Mr Daniel Craig</a> on the Tube journey, and Mr Cute, Tall but has turned up trousers (I'll have to think of a better moniker!) to accompany me from the Tube to the office. The latter I like because he's cute and tall, so tall that even in heels I have to turn my head skywards to smile at him which in turn makes me feel very girly and then makes me laugh! Add to that the not-even-vaguely-unattractive boss and you see I've now got a thoroughfare of good looking men to distract me throughout the day away from <a href="http://confessionsofaparamour.blogspot.com/search/label/Mr%20Magic">Mr Magic</a>. <br /><br />This is a good thing, even if it does involve a quilted jacket :-)Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-39761821466764154782010-03-02T22:15:00.004+00:002010-03-02T22:47:36.050+00:00Hot Cockles suffers a HiatusI am not a poet, a writer or an artist. I am not a scholar, a critic or a connoisseur. I am simply a person who enjoys, appreciates and quite often finds myself lost in the expression of others. <br /><br />If you haven't read it before, or for a while, I'd recommend obtaining a copy of Alice in Wonderland. It is quite possibly the most absurd book I've read, and one of the few that has never ending appeal and enjoyment contained within it's precious pages. If there were ever an expressive piece to challenge your imagination, this is it.<br /><br />There are many other books, works of art and pieces of poetry that I'd recommend given half the chance. Today, I'll settle with sharing a poem I earlier happened upon whilst looking for inspiration in a book of poetry that resides on my desk. As much as I'd like to write about what's on my mind, what I'd like to do now, what I can't understand and what I'd like to happen next it's nothing that hasn't already been said. <br /><br />This, however, is a shortened version of where I am right now:<br /><br />"The day he moved out was terrible -<br />That evening she went through hell.<br />His absence wasn't a problem<br />But the corkscrew was gone as well."<br /><br />- Loss, by Wendy CopeHot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-2919033003662978382010-02-13T22:54:00.008+00:002010-03-28T12:28:47.247+01:0034 seconds<strong>Me</strong>: Hi! How are you?<br /><strong>Him</strong>: Fine thanks, you?<br /><strong>Me</strong>: Good thanks ... hang on a minute, I'm just trying to figure out where I am [insert waffle about where I'm trying to get to as I temporarily suffer geographical ambiguity] ... are you still in town?<br /><strong>Him</strong>: No, I'm at home.<br /><strong>Me</strong>: Oh, that's a shame - I thought if you were still in town we could meet up for a coffee.<br /><strong>Him</strong>: Well I'm at home, so I can't. I'll speak to you later. Bye.<br /><strong>Me</strong>: Ok then. Bye.<br /><br />My tone was cheery, deliberately so, and his was blunt and cold. I checked my call log, it took 34 seconds. <br /><br />As I hung up the phone I laughed out loud - how rude! Over the following half hour I momentarily considered that something may be seriously wrong, perhaps he'd suffered a trauma? In the current climate, where modern telecommunication enables instant access to anything and anyone I believe it also enables choice - answer the phone, don't answer, reply, don't reply. I also consider bad manners shocking, downright rude and mostly wholly unnecessary. <br /><br />Upon returning home I read a newly purchased book cover to cover, uninterrupted, which felt like a luxury ... but I'd much rather have been interrupted. I'm getting the distinct impression he's pissed off with me because of what happened yesterday, but I don't really believe he has legitimate cause. He's ambivalent about seeing me and I plan my time, he doesn't - so on this we clash. <br /><br />Yesterday I thought it might be a good idea to have 'the conversation' face to face so invited him to join me for lunch today, Saturday, which he eventually accepted, and in very positive terms too. Unfortunately he took so long to accept I'd gotten bored and invited someone else - operating a first come, first served principle I then had to inform him that he was too slow so I couldn't see him after all. His response was to inform me that actually he was double booked so couldn't have met me anyway ... I replied that although a moot point I was sorry for the double booking, but that I hoped he enjoyed his lunch appointment.<br /><br />With that in mind, re-read the 34 second conversation. Was it necessary for him to all but hang up on me? No. Did he stop to ask how my lunch was? No. Has he since been in contact? No. Do we think he deserves to be told to fuck off, grow some balls and leave me alone? Yes. Will he be told that? No. Because I have better manners and will not play him with the same cards he's dealt me ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-90583975236772327472010-02-11T22:53:00.003+00:002010-02-11T23:13:45.214+00:00AdviceI've only ever received two pieces of advice regarding relationships, one apiece, from the two members of my family that I'm closest to, and who I respect without regard;<br /><br /><strong>"Don't compare men to your father, because they'll never live up to your expectations"</strong> - this was from my Grandma, my beloved fathers' mother. She knew I doted on him, and I still do so I took her advice and have never looked back. I wonder what she would say to me now that I've met someone who I've never compared to my father, but who is uncannily similar?<br /><br /><strong>"Never go back: what broke you up the first time, will break you up a second"</strong> - this was from my beloved father who has poor choice in women and I think has now learnt his lesson. I've always half heartily agreed with him, but deep down I understand. This may well be what is contributing to my uncharacteristic inability to call things off with the Magician. If I walk away now, is that it, have i been too hasty, will I regret it, it is the right decision?<br /><br />For all of the pearls of wisdom my friends have imparted upon me over the years, these two stand above them all. I don't compare him to my father, but he's so very much like him I almost can't bear it. I don't want to break up with him because I know as we continue to bounce off of each other, the same issues will arise all over again. I can hear the death knell tolling ....Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-26376413198519999292010-02-11T21:50:00.003+00:002010-02-11T22:42:45.280+00:00Lovlier and lovlierLet me introduce you to someone new - he's called Lovely. He'd dispute that moniker, and I could think of many others that are more witty or engaging, but lovely is how I think of him so it shall stand. He is without doubt one of my very best friends, and I his because above all else we understand each other in a way that is inexplicable to others, and because we are both so very narcissistic in that the main reason we like each other is because we are each other ... oh, and we also have the same taste in men, which is frustrating but not unexpected.<br /><br />Lovely is a long time friend, a male version of me, and I a female version of him. I forget that when I describe him, else I would appear vain, but he really is lovely - a heart of gold hidden behind a wall of steel that is adorned with lots of sparkly things and a couple of jiggly things that make him aloof but fun! When I told him about Mr Magic, and how he leaves me sockless, he didn't take to him - mainly because I said he was like a male version of me, and thus like Lovely himself ... in retrospect, I'm not sure why he took exception to him.<br /><br />This morning I met Mr Magic for a coffee before work - the convoluted manner in which we got there may be explained in another post as it almost defies belief, but nevertheless, I woke at 5am, caught an early train and as we walked through the door of my favourite coffee shop there was Lovely in the queue. I didn't recognise him at first, he'd pulled me aside and kissed me before I'd figured out who he was, but as soon as I introduced him to Mr Magic I felt a whole new world open up before me. Comparisons are pointless as they fulfill different roles in my life, but it was most interesting to observe: I took charge of the conversation, naturally, Lovely did a superb job in being aloof and charming ... and the Magician? Well, it's as if he disappeared into thin air! <br /><br />Lovely informs me that Magic man avoided eye contact with him, and that he didn't appear talkative - and I concur. Was he threatened? Did he see the glint in our eyes, the smile on our faces? Was our inexplicable ability to have a conversation without talking too much for him? I know not, but Lovely rushed off so we had our coffee, we asked each other how we were, we passed enough time until it was time for me to excuse myself. <br /><br />A month ago I'd have lingered until the last possible minute, gazed into his eyes across the table and he would have stretched out a leg and wrapped it around my ankle. As we walked to the point we would part we passed the time of day, as he leaned in to kiss me goodbye I steered him to my cheek. This lead to a clash of lips I've not experienced since my age was suffixed with 'teen' .... not daring to make eye contact I breezily cheered 'see you later', and walked swiftly on, not looking back. <br /><br />The rest of my journey was punctuated with suppressed amusement - I'm bored! How funny! Is it seeing him next to Lovely? I doubt it, in any case comparisons are grossly unfair, but something amused me for the remainder of the day. I've moved from feeling as if the bottom of my world has fallen out, to feeling as if I've gotten my feet stuck in the glue that has secured it back into place. And that, in case there is any doubt, is what I call progress ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-51911263058614005272010-02-03T23:32:00.006+00:002010-02-07T00:25:28.815+00:00Swearing is apparently reserved for those who can't express themselves properly ... let me be one of those peopleFuck me! I've never been blown off before, and I mean in the theoretical sense! On Monday he's citing being too busy with training and cake baking this whole week he can only see me for lunch on Wednesday (essential background: apparently working from home last week when I invited him for a drink after work, and too busy baking cakes for a cake sale to see me after work this Friday which was my only other option) so two weeks have passed since I last saw him - as this isn't supposed to be an affair, it does seem a bit odd he's not champing at the bit to see me, given his professed passion for all things Hot Cockles.<br /><br />It's not the end of the world, but bear with me here. This morning he sent me an early morning text message apologising but informing me that he can't meet me for lunch as he's ill and has to stay at home to go to the Doctors. So far, so fair ... until I called him to see how he'd gotten on, and how he was. Nothing unreasonable there (though note he didn't call when I was ill last week, though to be fair he did offer me a delivery of home made soup which never transpired, but to be fair again, I was out of the office which was a main contributory factor In the non-delivery). He's not ill, he has an ailment, an infection, one that did not stop him going to the gym this morning, but still, in my book that deserves a degree of sympathy. <br /><br />It's Wednesday right? That's two days after Monday, the Monday he says he has too much on to see me ... and now he says actually it's ok, because he was planning on taking a few days off this week. For what, I've no idea, and at this moment, I care not one bit as it was not followed with 'Would you like to ...". I say cunt! Not to him (as that would be distasteful!) but I say it to you. <br /><br />Now, I know how full my diary is, how he severely dislikes planning, how he says he wants to see me when time allows etc etc etc ... so it's not likely without a bit of planning that I will see him ... can you see why I'm getting bored?!! We're back to him being a spineless idiot, too concerned with piffling and paffling his way through conversations rather than acting like the grown man that he is. Is it really too much to expect him to make reference to rearranging, or to feeling a tiny bit of sorrow he won't be seeing me? Clearly, yes, and so be it. <br /><br />I'm back to holding my head in my hands in despair, mentally resolving to move on but in reality feeling like the bottom has fallen out of my world. On the way home this evening I was as close to tears as I ever get, not because he'd blustered his way through keeping me at a distance, making it clear he won't be better until at least Monday (newsflash - I'm at a wedding this weekend, trade fair next week, not free until next Saturday but as he doesn't ask, he doesn't know), but because it's getting so clear to me that I need to have "The Conversation" with him. <br /><br />I don't like being handled at all. I've accepted a middle ground with him, I don't object when he makes attempts to handle me, to manage my expectations in such a fashion, and nor do I accept them, but I have a threshold and he has just reached it. I almost feel proud it's gone over my normal three month mark, but really, I should have grown out of that by now so it's nothing to be proud of. <br /><br />In case my obscene rant isn't quite clear enough; What a fucking idiot he is! Is he trying to play me? Who the fuck knows. I may love, in the most platonic sense, the man he is, and how he makes me feel, but as he is right now, he's not good enough. I have learnt from past mistakes, made it clear as I can that I want to see him, how I want to see him and he fails to respond in an acceptable fashion. So for now, I have no other way to describe him other than to say he is a cunt.<br /><br />NB: If it wasn't for the second day in a row early morning encounter and then, as special bonus, an evening encounter on the tube with Mr Daniel Craig (no, not the real one, just a delectable man who conjures the 'emerging from the sea in tiny blue shorts' scene), I may have lost all faith in attractive men. For the record, that would be a disaster!!Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-39405746432507534052010-01-30T00:26:00.005+00:002010-01-30T01:05:22.513+00:0027th January, later still & the letterOk, seven hours later and of course this is still playing on my mind and it's driving me to distraction. It's now 11pm and I've finished work and taken an evening class in the intervening period as well as having checked my phone constantly in case I've missed a text from him. That last part is just sad but part & parcel of modern telecommunications and of our relationship.<br /><br />As you can imagine my mind is racing through a vast number of scenarios, few end well, and I'm at the very real risk of repeating myself so I shall move on. So let me end this silly saga by writing him a letter that he is never intended to read:<br /><br />"To my dearest & darling Mr Magic,<br /><br />I love you. Not in the romantic sense but in the way that I love everything about you, and who you are as a person. I think if time allowed, I would fall in love with you, in the deepest and most romantic sense that is perceivable to me. I do, however, think that that time is not now, and I wonder, and I fear that if not now, it never will be. <br /><br />I find myself involved with you, sometimes involuntarily, in the most physical and emotional ways. When I am with you I can't see the woods for the trees so much I wonder if there are any trees at all?<br /><br />I dearly wish you would sort out whatever you need to sort out with Her, relatively quickly too. If that means letting me go, or pushing me away for a while, or forever then so be it. The thought of this scares me to the brink of tears and foolishness, but it is not a thought I have overlooked.<br /><br />I can't say that I have the experience, and on occasion I'd go so far as to say the maturity, to know how to deal with this correctly so I'm loathe to be content with the prospect of making mistakes. If I could see you, or sleep with you, or hold your hand one last time I would, and I may still yet, but right at this moment I don't think that I can.<br /><br />True to my word I can't spend time with you in the way that I want to spend time with you all of the time that you have a girlfriend, trial separation or not. If you can't resolve your difference with her then you can't move on with me and I dearly wish you would. So visit her, don't visit her, see me, don't see me, it's up to you but until you resolve your relationship with Her, I don't want to see you. Whilst not the most deft play on words I could have conjured, I like to think you see where I have left the door open, but if you don't see it, I won't tell you. <br /><br />I may not want to see you, but I will, and I would, if only you'd ask. So the next time you invite me to spend the night with you, at mine or at a hotel (as it surely won't be at yours), I'll hum and har and tell you we need to talk. You'll get that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get when you are about to embark on a conversation you do not wish to have, but it will not be unexpected. You'll be waiting for it and for that reason alone I'm going to make you wait. Not out of malice, or gentle amusement, but because I'm going to be so very selfish and spend some cherished moments with you before the unpleasantness starts all over again.<br /><br />This is based in a few key factors. Firstly I can't think of anything other than a marriage proposal (and no, I'm not joking) that would make me believe that you wanted me above all others. Secondly, I want you to want me above all others, and thirdly, if you were stupid enough to propose marriage as a solution I'd very easily be able to walk away and not look back.<br /><br />I believe this is a vicious circle so for the time being I've got nothing else to do other than be selfish and enjoy you a while longer. I'll admit, I'm also a little curious to see how you deal with that feeling of knowing that something is coming your way but not wishing at all to provoke it any earlier than is absolutely necessary.<br /><br />Is this game playing? Yes. But then my dear, you are the one who invited me to play. I'd much rather talk to you about how I feel and try to sort it out but I don't think it's realistic given the current tit-for-tat nature of our relationship. I do dearly wish it wasn't like this, but as you swing between offering delivery of home made soup when I'm poorly, and your clear statements of wanting to see me from time to time, when we both have the time and inclination (a phrase, incidentally that makes me want to attack you with a cheese grater), I find that I have little choice than to join you for the ride.<br /><br />Looking ahead I see deal-breakers, which seem manageable despite unfavourable outcomes, and perhaps a few more games. You can be assured though, that all the while you capture my attention, and so far it's unnervingly unfaltering, you'll be the only man who captures me. I'll never deal you the same cards you play me with. I'll simply withdraw, as gracefully as I can, from the game and it will be over.<br /><br />So you see I love you and I loathe you. It very much appears that you have failed to move on from being a trinket, except perhaps that now you are my favourite, and only trinket. For the record though, I much prefer Emeralds.<br /><br />All my love, <br /><br />LHC x"Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-46237619203222822932010-01-30T00:04:00.003+00:002010-01-30T00:25:46.445+00:0027th Januaryi really must make more time for this as I keep stopping and starting as it's getting me nowhere. Last night I had the most unpleasant dream - that I was having sex with a very attractive man who was covered in places with what can only be described as infectious looking legions.<br /><br />This is not rocket science is it? No matter which way I bury my head in the sand the result is still the same - I can't continue to have unprotected sex with a man who may, or may not have unprotected sex with another woman, namely Her, when he goes to see her in an undefined number of weeks time. If we settle on this for a moment, and not all other related factors - I'm going to have to tell him. Not I suppose, so much for his sake, but for mine - he might be quite content to stay quiet on the matter, or to rely on his principle of 'if you wanted to know you'd ask', but that's not the way i want to be treated and thus not the way I wish to treat other people.<br /><br />I guess the question is how long do I leave it? (Answer = don't put it off you idiot!) And, how do I tell him? (Answer = tell him straight!) Phone or face to face? <br /><br />... too much planning. Not likely to see him for a while, so I guess I'll have to leave it for a bit longer. Miserable as that seems because we all know that I don't want to stop seeing him, or any of the above. This is all so bloody irritating as I can't help but think how he may react despite it clearly being out of my control. Oh my god - the four millionth scenario has just popped into my head. What on earth do I do if he says 'Ok, not a problem'? I suspect blow a fuse and excuse myself on a permanent basis just as quickly as I could!!Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-24386241166302024442010-01-30T00:00:00.002+00:002010-01-30T00:04:08.270+00:0025th JanuaryA disappointment, that's not quite right either. <br /><br />I perhaps mean that I'm disappointed, and not with him, with myself.<br /><br />Sleeping with him, spending time with him, is actually fantastic! I've paused to think about that for quite some time as having committed pen to paper I wonder if that is too dramatic a statement? I think perhaps not; as a lover he is very satisfying and good fun, it's perhaps being a friend is where he is falling down at the moment.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-67976167124802336602010-01-29T23:53:00.002+00:002010-01-30T00:00:15.934+00:0024th JanuaryIn tradition of not looking back, I refuse to re-read anything I have already written. This may be to my detriment. Since my last entry my mind has been swung between cutting him out of life completely, and partially, and indeed continuing as we are .. so thus i am none the wiser.<br /><br />I really don't know what to do. But I know that every time I sleep with him I feel a sense of, it's not quite guilt, or shame, but more disappointment. To spend time with him is an unexpected high, one which I am not aware of at the time, but when he leaves (as it's always him that leaves) it's as if my world falls to its knees.<br /><br />There is now, of course, the knowledge that he is soon to spend two weeks visiting Her. Not something that is a surprise, or a disappointment, which in itself is a curious reaction.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-62288830641017840252010-01-29T23:41:00.003+00:002010-01-29T23:52:47.802+00:0020th JanuaryI'm not sure who I'm trying to convince, but this is just not working, or at least it's not what I want. Is this the three month curse for real, is it a real doubt, or am i just at the mercy of my recently very sporadic emotions? I need to talk to him, I think a target of the end of January is a good idea. <br /><br />I need to tell him that I'm thinking of calling it a day with him. That the longer I go on seeing him the more it feels like an affair and the more that becomes an unacceptable situation to be in. That I can't just stop sleeping with him to absolve my guilt and unease, because as lovely as he is, I want to be with him, not sat opposite him in the most platonic of ways.<br /><br />My gut is telling me that something is not right, and I know what that us, but I really have to do something about it as it's becoming too much to bear. Is it her? Partly, but it's also Him, and the way he chooses to deal with contentious issues. Even writing that I feel uneasy - for example, he says he's planning three weeks away and I don't ask where, and he doesn't tell. So really, as bad as he is, I am too. Not that this all too frequent observation helps one bit but I guess one us has to break the cycle and it's not going to be him!<br /><br />Logic says that if you remove the factors about which you can be proactive, the problem lies in the factors about which you can do nothing. These, as I see it are twofold. Firstly, I can't effectively affect his relationship with Her. Secondly, I can, as long as I am true to myself, do nothing about how he feels about me.<br /><br />I don't doubt he likes me, and I don't doubt he has issues with Her, apply both in the reverse and I conclude that neither has any real effect on the other. I guess my conclusion for today is that if I'm having an affair I'd like to know about it, and choose whether I want it to continue. He's had his cake and I think it's about time I had mine.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-46524002722656492442010-01-29T23:35:00.002+00:002010-01-29T23:40:15.163+00:00ConfessionI started writing this as a means to express things I didn't feel had an appropriate outlet elsewhere, but I confess, I've also been keeping a diary. It's not a daily event, more of an outlet for when my thoughts became too much to bear, and I've only just found the point at which it's appropriate that they converge. So let me take you to the most appropriate point ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-61236101590946937292010-01-20T23:25:00.005+00:002010-01-21T00:33:21.792+00:00What respectable man wears a thong? I ask you!...the type of man who is conscious of how his very handsome backside looks in a very tight pair or jeans, that's who!! <br /><br />Where on earth am I? I like him, I love him even (in the loosest, most non-commital way one can make such a statement), and yet it didn't really put me off ... once indeed it was off. I remember many years ago a boyfriend of the time adorning himself with what can only be described as a market-stall paisley print shirt and dodgy canvas shoes unbefitting of the time and and indeed any fashion sense whatsoever ... it was enough to see me drink three drinks straight before I could overlook the fashion faux pax and go near him!! Not so with Mr M.<br /><br />Where was I? Oh yes, Mr M: Events are not transpiring as I would have hoped. I continue to be tortured by his tremendous tendency to be oh so lovely, as well as his tendency to be oh so less than satisfactory. Many, many orgasms, and one hotel room night's worth of sheer tortuous pleasure since my last post and I fear that I fail to see the point of Mr M at all, despite the utopic state he reduces me to. Could I be suffering from the anticipated and somewhat dreaded 3 month itch, as I've now an overwhelming desire to tease a few men I know into a frenzy... I think I'll start with the easy option, Mr Marine :-)<br /><br />I'm not entirely sure what to do about the thong though. What would you do?Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-74999743001396720232009-12-31T02:29:00.007+00:002009-12-31T03:23:57.353+00:00Should I stay or should I go?I'm thinking more of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZBPu7jJbJU">The Clash</a> than any deep and meaningful question. In any case, I don't believe anyone has yet written a song entitled "I'm really confused, is this sex, an affair, a relationship ... oh sod it whatever it is I'm having too much fun to stop right now" so if I was going to quote a song, I wouldn't have an appropriate song to quote. Next, imagine the classic opening riff to said Clash song ....<br /><br />Now, why should that pop into my head all of a sudden? Ah yes, Mr Magic. After another wonderful twenty four hours, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.<br /><br />He is delicious and delightful in almost every way, and even the ways in which he is not delicious and delightful are not what I would call deal breakers. I am increasingly finding that the more time I spend with him that more time I want to spend with him, but there is also a linear relationship to my desire to call the whole thing off. I wouldn't know where to start to describe him between the handsomeness, the cooking, the intelligence, the hand holding, the gentle kisses, the suppressed dom, the confidence, the insecurities, the loveliness, the intuition - all wonderful aspects to discover of him. <br /><br />This is not a man who does not know what he wants, so why is it he does not know if he wants me? I'm all for enjoying the moment, living life to the full, but the highs with him are so high it make the lows, which are lower than I've ever seen, seem even lower. Now, because it's a beautiful song, and I've nothing further sensible to conclude: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWGiK8N8Z_w">Set Fire to the Third Bar</a>Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-70189603555489321132009-12-27T21:44:00.003+00:002009-12-27T22:20:18.999+00:00Wh?Where does it start, and where does it stop? What should you do when you can't see the woods for the trees when you are quite happy looking at the trees? And how do you know what to do next?<br /><br />He is no longer just a figment of my imagination; for some time he has been a living breathing body, living beside me, breathing beside me, completing a puzzle I didn't realise required a resolution. Does he fulfill my ego, or is he penetrating it? What will he do when he realises he has my heart?<br /><br />Instinct drives me to despair, to a place where I am at his mercy, he is at mine, and we are at each others. Is it him that I like, or is it myself in him that I like? How far can you go with someone who pushes you in the way that you push them?<br /><br />How much would you sacrifice for a journey of self-exploration? That is the real question. When I decided that nothing would be off limits with Him I don't think I realised what was beyond my self imposed limits, so yet again I find myself in sticky territory, longing to be alone and to have the space which that allows, yet simultaneously yearning to share that time with Him for nothing more than to clock up yet more magical hours spent with Him, as well as the periodic tender kiss onto my forehead that he is so fond of delivering. <br /><br />As I commit pixels to monitor I'm immediately drawn to the backspace button - it's so much more than that. I don't know where this will stop, when it will stop, or if it should stop - my instinct is telling me that it will but does not allude to a reason. Is it me, is it him, is it us? I don't know, but I quiver at the thought of him, and the thought of more of him, and at the thought of more of us.<br /><br />I know who he is now, he's the Magician.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-85790335495083536552009-12-09T20:59:00.005+00:002009-12-09T22:00:47.366+00:00In DenialFor a while now I've been trying to recall the best sex I've ever had. This is purposeful twofold; firstly it passes the time of day as and when required, and secondly, I'm so blown away by my current lover I can't quite accept it's the best I've ever had. What makes sex great, or should I ask what makes great sex?<br /><br />A close friend once informed me that having sex with someone you love was such an amazing experience it was incomparable to that which you would have from casual sex. I have always disagreed with that, in part because she only had experience of the loving kind, but also because, well, to be perfectly honest I consider it a silly statement. Sex in a loving relationship is only good if you want it, they want it, and it all works nicely in tandem. <br /><br />Casual sex is great, but always on the premise that it's great because that's what you want. Take Mr Green, who I saw on and off for a year or so - our relationship was not strictly monogamous, nor committed on a full time basis - he was lovely but had issues with not being good enough for me (oddly in a social standing kind of way, not a sexual one) which ultimately was our downfall. There was only room in that relationship for one self destructive neurotic, and that was me!! So on we go ...<br /><br />Mr Green was challenging - emotionally, intellectually and physically - he was, and to some degree still is, someone special and absolutely brilliant in bed! The other most notable partner, Mr Marine (who surely deserves at least one dedicated post at a later date such is his deliciousness), was predominantly challenging physically, and fared pretty well on the other two fronts, though not in such an enjoyable way - but boy was he, and is he, hot hot hot!! The current Mr, a suitable moniker is still not yet forthcoming, blows them both out of the water in the most curious way.<br /><br />Boundaries that I refuse to accept do not seem to exist with him which leaves us with a 'the world is our oyster' feeling. We move between loving and tender, to rough and intense, back the other way and then everything in between as easily as putting one foot in front of the other. The very thought of him is intoxicating, let alone when he is between my legs, but it goes beyond the act of sex alone, it covers ever interaction with him. The intensity of the connection we have on an intellectual and physical level, and I pause before adding an emotional level, leads to the most mind blowing sex I have ever had which I think neatly answers my question ... I do like it when that happens!!<br /><br />The question that now follows, for me at least, is, given our scarily similar selves, is this a relationship built on narcissism? I think I have some reading to do before I consider that one fully ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-37169598006067133332009-11-29T19:12:00.005+00:002009-11-29T20:51:58.507+00:00NeurosisI invited him to join me for dinner on Saturday, and in the style of 17th century companions, we corresponded through his acceptance, the arrangements and his concern that the lack of chaperone may have on my reputation. You may ask why, but I ask why not? We've put the debacle of the previous weekend behind us, and I am resolved that whilst not necessary, I need to make an effort that he is not necessarily aware of, but which he will appreciate.<br /><br />I'm happy to admit I have a few neurosis: I'm not keen on displaying affection in public, I loathe neediness and I have a horrible tendency to separate emotions from sex. The net result is that the man at the end of my attentions finds that I'm attentive and adventurous in bed, but I won't hold hands in public without cringing and am laid back regarding when I may see him next which often appears ambivalent and occasionally cold. In principle you could argue that there is nothing wrong with this, but it very much goes against certain aspects of my character so is often confusing for the recipient.<br /><br />I'm very aware that the two occasions I've ended up spending the night with Him, it's been at the end of an alcohol fuelled evening. Not excessively so, but if you put it into the context that it's natural where alcohol is involved for your normal barriers to be lowered, it prompts an unpleasant question. Am I more likely to display affection and emotion when I've had a drink? I think this is in part true, and that I'm not likely to be alone in that, but I also recognise that with Him there are lots of uncertainties surrounding our relationship that leave me uneasy and as a consequence less likely to overcome these neurosis. <br /><br />So I am resolved that necessary or not, it would be to both our benefit for me to make more of an effort in these regards. Our dinner date was lovely - a nice evening with good conversation as companions, and later, as anticipated, we got down to business ;-) Yet another sleepless night, toe curling engagement, pushing of boundaries and genuine ongoing and seemingly unending pleasure. But amusingly, I feel the need to remember to take his hand next time that I see him, because I think he'd quite like it.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-12555213588692593312009-11-22T03:07:00.005+00:002009-11-22T04:55:26.883+00:00SaturdaySaturday came and went. The net result was that I went home by myself to a cold flat, and sat in the lounge for a few hours staring blanking at my laptop in a state of fierce despair and confusion waiting for the tumble dryer to tumble my bed sheets dry. I desperately wanted to just crawl into bed, shut my eyes really tight and fall asleep, not thinking about anything.<br /><br />He came to the party. He didn't just appear all of a sudden - we met in advance, he didn't shy away too much from the cameras, and we didn't re-enact our favourite trick of competing with each other in front of other people to the point we both make idiots of ourselves. Making an idiot of oneself was reserved for me that night, and me alone, and I'm conservatively sure it isn't for any of the reasons you could imagine, so let me try to explain ...<br /><br />Having had the opportunity to meet him for coffee during the week I took it, thus thwarting my own attempt at game playing. He was and has since been lovely, as I have come to expect, but he also was not planning on attending the party for a fairly reasonable reason: he knew the host had not invited him, she'd invited the prospect of us, which to someone like us, is strangely offensive. Neither of us wanted to feel like performing monkeys, we are both quite (and I say this somewhat ironically given the medium I choose here) private people, and can't abide matchmaking. So a little gentle persuasion and he booked himself a hotel, bought a new shirt and informed me of his quandary between shoes or boots.<br /><br />To the other guests we appeared good friends, glued to each other side, but not what you would call an obvious couple. As the evening progressed and I performed my social butterfly trick I grew increasingly frustrated to a point I've never gotten to before, with the lewd attention I was receiving from a few other men. These are men that I know, and some I don't, but who all took it upon themselves to cross the line that is invisibly drawn between friendly banter, and inappropriate and unnecessary lewdness. As each one crossed the line I walked away, choosing to refrain from entertaining their company for the rest of the evening - that's an important point, I walked away.<br /><br />At the tail of the evening, I explained my frustration as it really had an unexpectedly profound effect on me, and he was just lovely and we sat holding hands (a fact I confessed to him that surprisingly to me, with him I enjoyed doing it), but he also said that I invited it, the lewd comments he means. Why? Because of the lovely but fairly low cut dress I was wearing, but also because I choose to engage at all with these men. We escorted the birthday girl to her residence and watched her stumble through her front door trailed by a blizzard of helium balloons, and he invited me to stay at the hotel with him. I awkwardly deliberated and then awkwardly declined and as he kissed me goodnight I found I could barely kiss him - him, the man who makes my toes curl with delight, who pushes me into tornado of emotions and catches me when I'm tossed aside by it's force - and I couldn't bring myself to kiss him!<br /><br />As I drove home, en route parking up in a layby 500 yards from the hotel to sit in my car and recover from my bout of insanity, I could think of nothing else but of why I reacted like that to him, whilst simultaneously feeling sick at the prospect of the damage I could have caused. What have I done? By the time I reached home I had gotten as far as realising that I couldn't bare the thought of hearing him say to me the same words those other men had earlier in the evening, to the extent I didn't want him to do anything other than hold my hand, or put his arm around me. It's an ugly and inexperienced knee jerk reaction that on many levels I perhaps could have handled better including telling him what was bothering me - the latter being possible had I actually realised what it was before I had left him but hey-ho.<br /><br />I'm just used to it, the banter, the comments, the inappropriateness, and when, and if it goes too far I will unquestionably make that clear, but perhaps he has a point about my behaviour. If the situation had been reversed I'd have been uneasy to learn he'd engaged at all in these conversations, would probably not have acknowledged that he had drawn the line and walked away, citing the engagement, not the line crossing as the problem, and I would have been mortified if he'd then walked away from me at the end of the evening. Why? Because I would have found it disrespectful of my feelings for him, confusing and I would have been thoroughly unimpressed. Had he not been there, would I have acted any differently with these men - no, I wouldn't, but perhaps I should have acted differently because he was there, or just because of him ... I just don't know.<br /><br />I like to treat people as I would want to be treated myself, so whilst I think it could appear meek, if I don't want him to behave in a certain way in those circumstance, I then don't want myself to either. As for any insinuation that my attire invites such comments, well, I'll dispatch that with a healthy 'whatever' - if he sticks around long enough he'll learn that if it's not my cleavage that instigates such comments, it's my mouth, and those are far worse. Regardless, I felt desperate at the thought of leaving him, and of having left him, at the thought that I might have upset him, and that I might not have upset him at all, and terrified that this might all be a concealed attempt to sabotage the relationship through sheer fear of what it could bring.<br /><br />So I left him with a briefly apologetic text, which asked that if it was ok with him, I'd call him the next day to explain once I'd cleared my head, and that it really was lovely to have spent the evening with him. I will undoubtedly spend the rest of the day torturing myself over what to say before I call him, if he'll pick up, be receptive, or insist an explanation is not necessary. I'll wonder if he'd have spent the evening with his arm around me, something he does in short bursts as he knows my reserve of such displays of affection, if he'd have done that and made clear that we were there together, would these men have engaged with me in the same way, would I have let them, and would it have changed the outcome of the evening? Every time I consider that I end up asking myself why I think that it should be something he does that would have such an effect, rather than something I could have done, and that actually, he's been the perpetrator by flirting with me in front of his girlfriend so is he really going to cry wounded soldier?<br /><br />Je suis un idiot. The reason for this remains unresolvedHot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-43974840514726059752009-11-16T20:37:00.004+00:002009-11-16T22:04:17.820+00:00Oh cher!Je suis un idiot! I don't like playing games, I don't like games being played with me, and I don't like watching people play games with each other ... so of course I find myself playing a game! I feared events would turn ugly: He, or I, or we, have started already, and today at least I have not the patience for such things! <br /><br />I find myself in uncharted territory, feeling something like an abandoned Wellington boot, stuck fast in a thick bog, waiting quietly for its owner to return and claim him from the forces of nature. I am struggling severely to maintain the degree of decorum that is required to let nature takes its course as one needs to in any blossoming relationship. What will happen next, and the time after that, and the time after that ...?<br /><br />I don't think I can wait, but I know that I have to. I don't want the physical to dominate the intellectual nature of our relationship, or vice versa, they are not, after all, mutually exclusive. Despite me having gotten very much a part of what I want from him, on many levels, I can't bare to think he has too. In a probable awkward and unconventional way I think we have to lead each other through the quagmire, but are not quite ready for that next step, not just yet.<br /><br />He has made a tentative, but inelegant move to introduce the concept of seeing me again, and I have blown back with equally inelegant piffle. Neither of us are in any doubt that we want to see each other, but the capacity within which that would happen is not disagreed upon, but nor is it agreed. We, or I, or he, are, or is, I suggest, scared at what might happen next if we were to arrange another meeting. <br /><br />He knows when he has the opportunity to see me without arrangement; at the party of an of-sorts mutual friend, and I'm digging my heels in enough to refrain from asking him to accompany me, or at the very least to join me at the bar. I think he won't go though he's had plenty of notice and surely has the motivation, because it's a public place where cameras will be flashing, and because he does not know what to expect of me in such a situation. If I gave him the opportunity to respond to that opinion, he would surely say I am wrong, of that I have no doubt, so I am suffocating his ability to say anything on the matter at all... <br /><br />I'm now going to sit back and wait for Saturday to come.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-9361090624326151262009-11-14T22:42:00.003+00:002009-11-14T23:46:05.950+00:00First impressionsI think I have one of those faces. The type that silently seeks opinion from anyone in the vicinity, unassumingly inviting them to opine - and they do. On the train home this evening one of a group in my carriage, who'd engaged a few of us in friendly and amusing banter, opined that he liked my hat, a few minutes later he appreciated my handbag and then moved on to express his admiration of my eye-liner. I thanked him on each occasion, raising an eyebrow and questioned his unquestionable sexuality, and then sat in dread, anticipating his next observation. <br /><br />I can't remember the first time it happened, I'd venture it was around 14 years ago. The frequency ebbs and flows, and with age has morphed into a more subtle, unspoken appreciation - unless of course the commentator feels they have secured my confidence (or are just plain stupid), in which case they happily, and mostly disappointingly go for the jugular. Somewhat sadly, I have now become immune to it, almost bored by the lack of originality, and consistently irritated with the blatant lack of manners. I say sadly as when a lover clearly, and so seductively appreciates it, it should be a moment to enjoy, to savour, to take advantage of, not one to wince at.<br /><br />I've had all sorts, none of which impress me but are all variations on the same theme: I have a lovely mouth. I've lost count of the number of times men have stood next to me at the bar and matter-of-factly informed me that I have a fantastic mouth for a blow job and then casually continued to order their drink, the men who have sidled up to me and leered that they know with a mouth like mine I'd give them a great blow job, and the women who just tell me that they'd kill for lips like mine. I think I've heard every version, and seen every type of look. <br /><br />They're not too big, not too small, plump, a good size with a great shape and a tendency to gently pout when left to do their own thing. Of all of the ways one could make a first impression I've learnt to accept that my mouth, smiling, pouting, or otherwise, is a large part of how I do it. Amusingly I've also learned to recognise when I can induce a colleague into losing their train of thought by a seemingly innocent but necessary application of lip-gloss - and just in case that gives the wrong impression of me it means any variation on the themes: 'I'm bored now', 'stop talking to me', 'go away' ;-)<br /><br />It seems irrelevant now, but the chap on the train didn't mention them after all, though he did venture to ask if I was a dominatrix - something to do with the way I slowly pulled on my elbow length leather gloves apparently.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-66566540573844654452009-11-10T19:18:00.003+00:002009-12-09T22:03:33.635+00:00Clearing the airBefore I go any further, I need to clear the air: I didn't embark on this relationship with the intention of starting an affair. In actual fact I have tried every trick in the book to end it precisely because I didn't want to start an affair. To counterbalance that, I've also tried with all of my heart to see if we could be friends. The net result appears to be that I'm having an affair, or at least I think I am ... I'm still not convinced that's what I'm actually doing.<br /><br />He has been attached to dowdy girlfriend since we met. She is the type of woman who travels abroad for extended periods of time, years on end, he is the type of man who suddenly discovered at some point in the past couple of years that he's actually charming, attractive to other women and has quite a presence about him. I don't know her well at all, but I know that she does not like me one bit, and at this point in time I'd say quite rightly too. In all, they are a very odd coupling.<br /><br />So we have him, we have her, and we have me. We tried an evening out with a few other friends, and it descended quite rapidly into chaos, never to be repeated. What followed was months of trying to be friends under her radar whilst all the while realising that was not what either of us wanted. He never mentions her, citing conflict of interest, and I don't ask - his only concession is to go so far as to say they both agree the relationship is not working. Having anticipated her next departure would very likely change the way he dealt with me, I distanced myself from him. <br /><br />What followed is what takes us to the present day. In a nutshell, once she'd gone he asked me out to dinner, claiming they'd separated and he was a single man. I made a last gasp effort to push him away to which he responded by issuing me with an ultimatum - which I should point out was a very brave move to try on me - dinner, no dinner, answer now because he won't ask again. I buckled, we had a wonderful dinner, I saw him again and we ended up in bed. Amazed by my willpower aren't you?<br /><br />So why don't I believe him? I say: "I'm single", he says: "I'm as single as it is going to get". To say that I like him is a gross understatement; he captures me in a way that leaves me breathless and unable to comprehend functioning without him in my life. I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen, something to break the spell because deep down I don't expect him to break up with her and be with me. The reason I say that is that can't imagine being with someone who could carry on like he does, behind her back. But then, I never thought I'd be the one to have an affair ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-63365148070442132662009-11-08T20:44:00.008+00:002009-11-08T21:43:08.069+00:00TurandotIt was a picture postcard, the text he sent, a picture postcard of where he is, alone, on holiday. With: 'Wish you were here ... XX' written underneath. Amusingly I found that my mobile had done it's thing and turned itself off unnoticed by me else I'd have received it 8 hours earlier and thus would not have spent a fair amount of time fantasising about the mental torture I could serve to him. God I hate it when he's right!<br /><br />A friend had mentioned he'd just gone away, so my irritation had been sparked by not knowing this, or at least not recalling that I knew this. Irritating to find then, that once he'd settled in his hotel he'd found a nice view and sent me a picture of it almost straight away. I wonder if he sent the same to the dowdy girlfriend as she is currently away on a long term mission so hence not with him (more on that, I'm sure, in another post), if he really did wish I was there or if he was just being lazy regurgitating a used text message. Furthermore given his reasonable attempt to get me to go with him whilst he was considering location, whether I wanted to be there with him, if I was irritated with his sentiment or just pleased that he thought of me at all.<br /><br />Should I embrace this relationship with careless abandon, should I remain sceptical of his motives, or can I dare to sit back and gently appreciate it, all the while letting it develop into a deeper and stronger union? Rather than ponder that further let me tell you about Turandot, which I saw last night - it's the story of a beautiful Chinese princess, burnt from past experience she decides she will only marry the man who can answer her three riddles and those who fail lose their heads. The story unfolds, a prince succeeds to her horror but rather than take her hand he sets her a challenge: to discover his name before dawn - if she succeeds she can take his head, if she fails she must take his hand. The prince, blinded by her beauty and his love for her, crosses the chasm under moonlight and tells her his name, leaving his fate in her hands. As the opera reaches it's crescendo, we watched the princess take audience with her father, declaring that she knew the princes's name, and that it is Love. <br /><br />If you don't already know, this is where Nessun Dorma comes from, and by the end I was fighting back tears, breathless with emotion, hand poised dramatically over my chest as if it would catch my heart when it burst out, unable to beat so fast in its own chamber. I identified with Princess Turandot; I've unintentionally set Him various challenges, which he has met at every step, and rather than bask in glory he challenges me, then changes the rules, handing me victory, relying only on the trust that comes from a deep unspoken love to save him from failure. <br /><br />As a person who is loathe to trust at the drop of the hat, but who's socks have been well and truly knocked off in the most magnificent way by Him, I ask you: How does this happen in the real world, and how does one deal with it?! Baffling, quite honestly, baffling ...Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-16392078019671742112009-11-07T13:11:00.005+00:002009-12-09T22:05:27.273+00:00Fire ... bar .. Part IIStill no sleep, much like last weekend but at least then I'd had the tortuous pleasure of 12 delicious sleepless hours in bed with Him. Oh last weekend was wonderful - yet another development in our seemingly never-ending, and never-boring relationship. <br /><br />I knew from the moment I met him that I'd like him. Actually, make that the second time - the first I don't really recall him but that was probably due to being attached to dowdy girlfriend, dulling his brilliance. The second time however she was absent and I was immediately taken with his wit, in particular the way he would make exactly the same joke or comment that I was about to make, a fraction of a second before me - irritating, yet fascinating. We sat up talking until the early hours of the morning, our host comically passed out at our feet, and as he walked me to my car I remember a wave of satisfaction passing over me as I said goodbye.<br /><br />Two and a half years later and despite an excruciatingly slow start, he finally kissed me for the second time by which point I felt drunk in satisfaction... though that may also have been down to the G&T's I had consumed by that point ;-) I'd had the most wonderful day in London, pottering from pillar to post, taking in Anish Kapoor at the RA, Mozart in St Martins before settling in a luxurious leather sofa in the National Gallery, admiring my favourite Masterpiece, awaiting his arrival. It felt terribly dramatic, and as we walked down the darkened Mall, towards a floodlit Buckingham Palace, I wanted to take him in my arms, and pause to appreciate that first moment of physical closeness. We ambled along to a nice pub and settled down, alcohol lubricating the necessary progression of the evening which would take us from faux friends to eager lovers.<br /><br />The anticipation had been building steadily for months, taking me through so many emotional journeys and moral quandaries through a mixture of drunken evenings, testy emails, wonderful emails, handwritten modern day love letters and delightfully calm and relaxing days spent watching cricket. It was delightful to extend this experience to one with a physical dimension; to awaken from my temporary slumber to find myself draped in the arms and legs of his near naked wonderness, to find that his kisses are tender as well as deeply masculine and to add insult to injury he is supremely skilled at just about everything you would want a man in his position to be. So why the disappointment?<br /><br />I'm a fairly open minded kind of girl who believes honesty is the best policy and one should not court the man of another woman. I've sat back and observed as he has spun his magic around me all the while being unutterably tolerable of me, and he's fallen for my charms whilst I've endured him and all the challenges around him. We've had a night of near-bliss but I now fear the next step is going to be ugly as we try to outdo each other in the frustrating way that we must. I'd rather we bypassed the obligatory wretchedness and went straight to bed, for one thing he's very warm, like a self heating hot water bottle. I'd describe the more pertinent physical aspects of his loveliness, but as I recall them I find myself drifting to that spot of contentment which means I can finally go back to bed and catch up on some sleep ... so it will have to wait for another time.<br /><br />Oh damn, as I edit this a simple text from him leaves me spellbound. Damn him and his magical powers.Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851371777796689192.post-45484628710162109042009-11-07T10:41:00.002+00:002009-12-09T22:04:43.731+00:00Set fire to the third barWhat have I done? I can't sleep, I can't stay in bed, and I can't get him out of my head.<div><br /></div><div>What did I do? I gave into temptation. Common sense temporarily disabled, I ensnared a man, lets call him 'Him' for now. A persistent, willing and eager man, who would argue he is unwilling to be ensnared by anyone, and certainly not by me, he was ensnared, and I let him ensnare me. The temptation is Him, pure and simply Him - the myth and the actual. </div><div><br /></div><div>I can't sleep because I woke up too early courtesy of too much wine and a 5am bedtime. I can't stay in bed because I think of the last time he was in it, and right now, that makes me feel very sick indeed. And I can't get him out of my head because he is a delicious mix of addictive, curious, and awkward, with a very handsome backside thrown in for good measure.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really should know better by now - the actual is never as good as the myth, I'm easily bored, and a nice smile will see me easily swayed. But with Him, the actual is proving to be better than the myth at every turn, and with fiercely high expectations I'm left mystified. He is something of an artist, adept at sidestepping the unspeakable whilst leading you almost unknowingly into the Garden of Eden. This morning however, I am disappointed; his magic has temporarily worn off which leaves me loathing him, cursing his existence, and occasionally deliberating effective ways to poke him with a stick. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime I find myself distracted with thoughts of an ex-lover, a certain Mr Green, which surprises me, as I normally wander back to the reliable Mr Marine. Set fire to the third bar - such a curious song. I don't understand it, perhaps I do in parts, but I like it a lot as it takes me off into a totally different place. This sounds an awful lot like my thoughts on Him...</div>Hot Cockleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08105443826500538409noreply@blogger.com4